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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24605488">The Night Shift</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/weethreequarter/pseuds/weethreequarter'>weethreequarter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Night Shift [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Car Accidents, Coming Out, Drug Addiction, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Hospitals, M/M, Military Background, Minor Injuries, Minor Jean Grey/Logan, Minor Scott Lang/Hope Van Dyne, Misunderstandings, Motorcycles, Not in the way you might be thinking, POV Multiple, Secret Relationship, Self-Harm, Sort Of</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:28:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,868</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24605488</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/weethreequarter/pseuds/weethreequarter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker/Johnny Storm, Sharon Carter/Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Night Shift [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>233</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Marvel Trumps Hate 2019</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Night Shift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/loverstar/gifts">loverstar</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>MILDLY SPOILERY WARNINGS: brief allusion to the forced marriage of a minor. There is also a discussion of an unspecified assault (unrelated to the forced marriage). If you are in any way uncertain, please talk to me on Tumblr or Discord.</p><p>DISCLAIMER: I am not and have never been a medical professional. I've tried to make this as accurate as possible, but there will be medical inaccuracies or times where I've sacrificed accuracy for the sake of the story. Some of the medical storylines have been taken from episodes of <em>The Night Shift</em>, which inspired this, so some inaccuracies may come from there. This is fiction, not fact.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>6.42pm</strong>
</p><p>The wind whipped past his ears and Tony could see the city in the distance as he gunned his motorbike. At least Dr. Romanoff sounded happy about his early return to the States when he called and told her he could start tonight instead of in three weeks when his unit was scheduled to return. Considering the circumstances, she was the only one.</p><p>Well, Tony smiled, maybe not the <em>only</em> one.</p><p>Before his thoughts could head down that particularly delightful track, flashing lights caught his eye and he spotted a truck and an ambulance by the side of the road. Tony tapped the brakes, leaning into the curve as he pulled the bike off of the road and skidded to a halt in a burst of dust.</p><p>Tossing his helmet aside, Tony sprinted down into a ditch, where he heard someone yell, “Do something!”</p><p>“I can’t stop the bleeding,” one of the paramedics replied.</p><p>“Take out the branch!”</p><p>“I can’t take out the branch, he’ll bleed out!”</p><p>Tony reached the bottom of the gully and found the paramedics and an electrical repair crew gathered around a man with - <em>wow</em> - a thick branch sticking out of his gut. Tony grimaced.</p><p>“No, he won’t,” he called, yanking off his jacket.</p><p>“Sir, move back. Give us some space,” the second paramedic called.</p><p>“I’m a doctor,” Tony assured him, dropping to his knees. “We’re going to take the branch out and do a DPL.”</p><p>“We don’t have enough blood to transfuse,” the paramedic argued.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Tony waved him off. Any anxiety he’d felt on the road was gone. He couldn’t drive without freaking out, but he could do surgery in his sleep. This battlefield medicine was like coming home. “Give me all your bags, a saline pack, a couple of tubes, a needle and a scalpel,” he ordered the first paramedic. Turning to the second, he told him, “We’re gonna go on three, okay? You got this?”</p><p>The paramedic looked uncertain, but he set his jaw and nodded. Gritting his teeth, Tony pushed any doubts to the back of his mind and grasped the branch. “One… two… three.”</p><p>Slowly, so slowly, they lifted the branch from the wound. Tony suppressed the instinctive shudder at the sound. As the branch came free, Tony only had a second to raise an eyebrow at the spike on that thing - no wonder it ended up so deep in this guy’s gut - and tossed it aside.</p><p>“He’s gonna bleed out!” The first paramedic insisted.</p><p>“No, he’s not,” Tony replied calmly. “His renal artery is cut, I’m gonna clamp it. We’re going to use his own blood. Start a line. Go! Come on, time is of the essence here, people.”</p><p>He got to work, sticking the tube into an incision in the patient’s stomach and attaching it to a bag.</p><p>“Alright, here’s what you do: you let that fill up,” he explained, pointing to the bag already filling with blood. “When it’s full, you pump it back into him. Then you put a new bag here and it keeps going, like a bucket brigade at a fire, okay? Okay?”</p><p>“Okay,” the paramedic nodded.</p><p>“Holy crap, it’s working,” the first paramedic exclaimed. “Where did you learn that?”</p><p>Tony glanced at him. “Afghanistan.”</p>
<hr/><p>“Hey.”</p><p>Natasha glanced up from her phone, her lips curving into an unbidden smile at the sight of her girlfriend approaching. “Hey you.”</p><p>“Working already?” Sharon teased, nodding towards Natasha’s phone as they fell into step. “Don’t you know that saying about all work and no play?”</p><p>“Actually, it’s an invite to my parents’ anniversary party,” Natasha replied, pocketing her phone. She held open the locker room door. “It’s on the twenty-third. Are you busy?”</p><p>“Me?” Sharon glanced at her. “Wait, you want me to go with you?”</p><p>“I mean, I thought it might be nice,” Natasha replied, opening her locker before throwing a glance over her shoulder at Sharon. “Considering you’re my girlfriend.”</p><p>Sharon instantly glanced around, as though someone was going to pop out from the vents and discover they were a couple - and okay, yeah, Natasha found Clint in the vents once and he’d never fully explained what he was doing there or how he got into the vents - but it was unlikely. But every time she made any mention of their relationship at work, Sharon’s automatic reaction was to check no one could overhear. After all, someone else knowing they loved each other? Unacceptable.</p><p>Yeah, okay, Natasha was maybe, kind of, a little pissed off by Sharon’s continued refusal to talk about their relationship at work. Or be seen together in public. Or to even acknowledge they had a relationship.</p><p>Maybe more than a little pissed off.</p><p>“Alright,” Natasha sighed. “What is the problem?”</p><p>“There isn’t a problem,” Sharon replied evasively. “I’m just… I think I’m busy that night.”</p><p>“Really. What a surprise.”</p><p>“Nat-“</p><p>“No, I don’t get it,” she interrupted. “You’re out. I know that. I’ve seen the pictures of you and your mom at Pride. Your dad got a warning from the cops last month for threatening a homophobe in a bar and he wears that as a badge of honour. So that’s not a problem. Which means I’m starting to think the problem is me.”</p><p>“No. You’re, you’re not the problem…”</p><p>Natasha rolled her eyes, swallowing her hurt. “Very convincing, Sharon.”</p>
<hr/><p>“That is disgusting.”</p><p>Steve had the audacity to chuckle without even pausing in his pull-ups at the bar in the corner of the room, his ridiculous muscles on full display. Clint shook his head and poured himself another mug of coffee.</p><p>“How do you do that?” Clint wondered, leaning against the counter.</p><p>“Easy,” Steve replied, and he didn’t even sound out of breath, the bastard. “My husband’s been deployed for over five months now. And that is a <em>long</em> time. Gotta use that energy somehow,” he winked.</p><p>Clint shuddered and mimed gagging into his coffee. “That’s disgusting. I don’t need to know about your sex life. Or lack of it.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” Steve asked, landing neatly on his feet. He grabbed his scrub shirt and pulled it over his head, ruffling his hair and increasing his innocent, boyish look, which was only belied by the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Because it’s <em>really</em> good.”</p><p>Clint pretended to puke again and wondered how on earth he’d managed to get Steve Rogers so badly wrong on their first meeting. On first impression, Steve came across as a sweet, innocent guy who was devoted to his husband. Then you got to know him and discovered there was nothing sweet and innocent about him, although he was devoted to his husband. And he liked to tell you exactly how devoted he was, just to see you squirm.</p><p>It was the wide baby blues and the blond hair and the <em>aw shucks</em> persona he turned on around the patients, Clint decided. It lulled you into a false sense of security and disguised the asshole underneath.</p><p>“For putting those images in my head, I’m not sharing my coffee with you,” Clint sniffed, foregoing the mug and taking the coffee pot with him as they left the break room.</p><p>“You never share your coffee anyway,” Steve laughed.</p><p>Clint curled his arm protectively around the coffee pot and glared. “Mine.”</p><p>“Alright everyone,” Natasha called, drawing everyone’s attention. “Let’s get started. First of all, nobody use the coffee pot - Clint’s using it as a mug again.”</p><p>Clint flicked open the lid and took a sip of coffee, smiling unrepentantly at anyone who glanced his way. Beside him, Steve rolled his eyes skyward and shook his head.</p><p>
  <strong>7pm</strong>
</p><p>“Barton, I’ve told you before and I’ve told you again, stop drinking out of the pot. That’s not sanitary, and as a doctor you should know that,” Natasha continued. “Second of all, I need all the paperwork for the drug company study. Hank is trying to fund an extra position for the day shift so he’s breathing down my neck, which means until I get that paperwork, I’m going to be breathing down your necks. And if we don’t get this done in time and day shift doesn’t get that extra position, then you’re going to have Coulson breathing down your neck. And take it from Dr. Barton, you do not want that.”</p><p>Clint shuddered. “Why do y’all think my paperwork’s actually done?” Phil Coulson, head of the day shift was an amazing doctor, a mild-mannered man, and utterly terrifying in his defence of his shift and his staff.</p><p>“And if Clint’s paperwork’s on time, you know it’s bad,” Steve joked.</p><p>“And finally,” Natasha continued, only to be interrupted by the doors opening and a paramedic shouting, “Come on, clear it out guys.”</p><p>“Make a hole,” a second voice called and Steve looked up sharply.</p><p>Clint glanced at him curiously; Steve’s eyes were fixed on the door and the man running into the ER with the paramedics and the gurney, blood on his shirt, as he yelled, “I need a type and screen, with two units of blood.”</p><p>“Trauma one,” Natasha ordered. “Sharon, he’s all yours."</p><p>“On it,” Sharon nodded, running after the gurney.</p><p>“Dr. Stark, nice of you to join us,” Natasha smirked at the man who came in with the paramedics. “You’re late.”</p><p>“Technically, I was early,” Stark argued, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face, “Considering I started treating my first patient before my shift even started.”</p><p>Natasha rolled her eyes. “Alright everyone, meet Dr. Tony Stark, fresh from Afghanistan and the newest member of the night shift. And finally, Dr. Bruce Banner, our new resident. Meeting’s over, enjoy your shift. Stark, get yourself changed.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>Clint eyed Dr. Stark curiously. He wasn’t their first or their only military member of staff, that wasn’t curious. But what was curious was the way Steve was eyeing him. Steve, very married, very devoted to his husband, Steve who was staring at Stark with a smile creeping across his face.</p><p>Clint frowned.</p><p>“You love to make an entrance, don’t you?” Steve called to Stark.</p><p>Stark turned, walking backwards down the hall and grabbing the bottom of his shirt. “If you’ve got it, you’ve got it,” he replied, yanking his shirt over his head, a set of dog tags swinging over his bare chest. “And I’ve got it,” he finished, spreading his arms.</p><p>Clint rolled his eyes, noticing Wanda eyeing Tony’s abs and feeling a surge of annoyance because, whatever, Stark’s abs weren’t <em>that</em> great. But then his annoyance vanished abruptly when he realised Wanda wasn’t the only one checking Stark out.</p><p><em>Steve</em> was checking him out too.</p><p>Blatantly and unrepentantly and Stark was grinning back at him and <em>oh shit</em>, was Steve <em>flirting?</em></p><p>“I have a bad feeling about this,” Clint muttered, taking another sip from the coffee pot.</p>
<hr/><p>“What do we got?” Dr. Pym called, running towards the paramedics wheeling a screaming woman into the ER.</p><p>Bruce ran after her; when he came closer he realised the woman was held down with thick black straps and she struggled and screamed, not from pain, but in anger. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!”</p><p>“Female, thirty six years old,” the paramedic reported. “Laceration to the right cheek. She’s delusional with auditory hallucinations.”</p><p>“Alright, bring her into trauma two,” Dr. Pym ordered. She pulled a flashlight from her pocket, leaning over the patient. “Ma’am? Ma’am, can you hear me?”</p><p>“Stay away from me! Get off of me!”</p><p>Bruce flinched as the patient lunged for Dr. Pym, her teeth clacking together when she failed to bite Dr. Pym’s hand. He swallowed. He suddenly felt a very long way away from med school.</p><p>“Hey! We don’t bite the doctors who are trying to help us around here,” Dr. Pym frowned. “Push five of Haldol, IV,” she added over the screaming. “Bruce, you with me?”</p><p>“Uh, yes ma’am, Dr. Pym.”</p><p>She smiled. “Hope is fine.”</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t apologise.”</p><p>Once the patient was sedated, Dr. Pym called Bruce over to stitch up the wound on her cheek. “That’s it,” Dr. Pym murmured. “Your stitches are very neat.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, you’re doing fine,” Dr. Pym assured him.</p><p>“What do you think’s wrong with her? The screaming and the delusions, I mean?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>Bruce was just about to tie off the stitches when the door opened and a uniformed officer wandered in.</p><p>“Can I help you, Officer?” Dr. Pym frowned.</p><p>“This woman attacked a man in the street,” the Officer replied. “She’s out of her mind.”</p><p>Bruce bristled at the casual and offensive description of his patient - and wow, that protectiveness appeared quickly - but before he could argue, Dr Pym asked, “Is she under arrest?”</p><p>“Maybe. The victim hasn’t decided if he wants to press charges yet.”</p><p>“Excuse me.”</p><p>All eyes turned to the newcomer, sticking his head around the door.</p><p>“I’m going to have to ask you not to talk to my client when I’m not present,” he continued, stepping further into the room.</p><p>“She has a lawyer already?” Dr. Pym frowned.</p><p>“I’m her friend,” he continued, pushing his red tinted glasses further up his nose. Bruce noticed the white cane he was carrying for the first time. “And I’m a lawyer. Matt Murdock.”</p><p>“You heard him, Officer,” Dr. Pym said. “You’ll have to wait outside. She’s still unconscious,” she added when he looked like he might protest. “When she wakes up, we’ll let you know.”</p><p><em>No, we won’t,</em> Bruce thought mutinously.</p><p>“So what happened?” Dr. Pym asked Matt once the Officer left the room.</p><p>“I don’t know. Jess was spiralling all afternoon,” he explained. “And then, I think, this guy put his hand on her - she was shouting, clearly agitated - and she snapped. She slapped him and he hit her back. She fell down and she, I don’t know, she cut herself on something. I think she thought he was trying to kill her.” Matt’s face fell, pursing his lips. “I wish I could’ve helped her.”</p><p>“Sounds like the best thing you could’ve done was take care of yourself,” Dr. Pym insisted.</p><p>“It’s been two years now,” Matt sighed.</p><p>Bruce pulled off his gloves, tossing them into the bin and crossing to Matt’s side. “She’s been having these episodes of psychosis for two years?”</p><p>“Yeah, almost,” Matt nodded. “We’ve gone to every psychiatrist in the city. They say she’s bipolar or delusional or something. But they all blame the assault.”</p><p>“Assault?”</p><p>“Jess was assaulted when she was in the Army. The guy got away with it and she got a discharge. Everyone says this is a result of that.”</p><p>“But you don’t think so?” Bruce asked, reading the barely concealed frustration in Matt’s tone.</p><p>“I think it’s an easy option for them,” he replied, his voice tight. “Blame the victim, throw her on a cocktail of meds and forget about her. Just like the Army did. But none of the meds do anything to help her. So then they decided I should have her committed. I had to fight her sister to stop her from putting Jess in an institution. I know her. I’ve known her for years. I am not giving up on her. I know something’s wrong.”</p><p>“Alright, Mr Murdock, we’re going to move her to recovery now,” Dr. Pym explained.</p><p>“Can I stay with her?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>Bruce gaped at Dr. Pym, before hurrying after her. “Uh, Dr. Pym. Hope. Is that it? You’re not- I mean… We have to do something, right?”</p><p>“Bruce, I’m not a psychiatrist,” Hope replied. “And look at her notes: they all say the same thing. If that many doctors agree, then chances are they’re right.”</p><p>“Then why do none of the meds work?” Bruce pushed.</p><p>Hope sighed. “I can call psych, see if they have a bed for her. But we’re the ER. We don’t have the time or the beds or frankly the funding. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Bruce huffed. Maybe it was the way the officer so casually dismissed Jessica as crazy, maybe it was the determination in Matt’s jaw when he told their story, maybe it was the assumption that a woman’s problems must stem from her trauma, or maybe it was just the feeling in his gut that said, <em>something is wrong here.</em></p><p>Either way, Bruce wasn’t ready to give up on his patient.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>8.12pm</strong>
</p><p>Sharon took a deep breath and tried to quash the churning in her gut, the nausea caused by her argument with Nat. At least, she hoped the argument was the cause of her nausea. Pasting a bright smile on her face, she stepped into the room where her next patient was waiting.</p><p>“Peter Parker?” she read from the notes, glancing between the two teenagers waiting inside.</p><p>“That’s me,” the boy sitting on the gurney waved and winced.</p><p>“I’m Dr. Carter. And you are?”</p><p>“Uh, Johnny,” the second boy muttered, ducking his head and burying his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.</p><p>“He’s my boyfriend,” Peter added.</p><p>“Are you okay to have him in the room or…?”</p><p>“No, no,” Peter shook his head. “It’s all good.”</p><p>“Alright. You were in a motorcycle accident? Is that right?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah,” Peter nodded.</p><p>“It's my fault,” Johnny blurted out. “I… I lost control of the bike.”</p><p>“Are you hurt?” Sharon asked Johnny, scanning him for any obvious injuries.</p><p>“No, I’m fine,” he insisted. “Pete’s the only one who got hurt.”</p><p>“Yeah, my shoulder really hurts,” Peter grimaced. “And I can’t move it. My head’s kinda sore too. I feel a little… funny.”</p><p>“That’s because you’re a little funny,” Johnny replied. From his expression, Sharon surmised it was an automatic response; for a second, Johnny looked worried, before relaxing when Peter chuckled and reached for his hand.</p><p>“You might have a concussion,” Sharon smiled. She checked Peter’s pupils but they were both the same size. “We’ll get you a CT scan. Just in case. You were wearing a helmet?”</p><p>“I won’t let him on the bike without one,” Johnny replied, earning a blushing smile from Peter. They were cute, Sharon thought to herself, the way they so obviously adored each other.</p><p>“Right, let’s see this shoulder. Oh yeah, that’s dislocated. We’ll have to pop that back into place.”</p><p>“That’s going to hurt, isn’t it?” Peter grimaced.</p><p>“‘Fraid so, kid. But I’m going to send you for an x-ray first. I wanna make sure there’s no broken bones in there. In the meantime, we’ll get you a painkiller.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Now, because you are fifteen, I need to call a parent or guardian,” Sharon continued.</p><p>“Uh, that’ll be my Aunt May,” Peter replied, glancing at Johnny nervously. “Her number’s in my phone.”</p><p>“Okay, I’ll get one of the nurses to give her a call, get her down here, and then we can get this show on the road. The x-ray department is backed up at the moment, I’m afraid, so you might have to wait. I’ll see about getting you that CT though.”</p><p>“Uh, Dr. Carter?” Peter called.</p><p>Sharon paused. “Yeah?”</p><p>“Um… Please don’t mention, uh, please don’t tell my aunt that, that Johnny’s my boyfriend,” Peter stammered. “She, uh, I haven’t, um…”</p><p>“It’s okay, Peter,” Sharon assured him. “Your relationship status doesn’t affect your health so I don’t have to tell her anything.” Relief flooded both boys’ faces. “Sit tight, I’ll be back soon,” she promised.</p><p>A flash of red caught her eye as she returned to the nurses’ station; glancing up, Sharon saw Natasha heading into a room on the other side of the ER. Her stomach twisted again. Sharon swallowed, pressing a hand against her abdomen.</p><p>“You okay?” Steve asked, leaning against the nurses’ station, writing on a chart.</p><p>“Huh? Oh, yeah, fine. Something I ate isn’t sitting right,” she lied.</p><p>He frowned. “You look a little pale. If you need anything, let me know,” he added, clapping her on the shoulder as he passed to follow Natasha.</p><p>“Thanks Steve,” she called. Exhaling slowly, Sharon turned back to Peter’s chart.</p>
<hr/><p>“Hi there,” Natasha smiled at the girl sitting upright on the gurney, blinking at her with wide green eyes. “I’m Dr. Romanoff. What’s your name?”</p><p>“I’m Lorna,” she chirped, confirming what Natasha already knew from the admission forms.</p><p>“And who’s your friend?” Natasha asked, glancing to the man with the terrified expression, biting his nails in the corner of the cubicle.</p><p>“This is Charles,” Lorna grinned. “He’s dating my dad.”</p><p>“Erik, her father, he’s on a training exercise,” Charles stammered. “I, I called him but it, uh, it’ll take him a few hours to get back.” He swallowed. “Her mother is deployed.”</p><p>“She’s fighting in Af-ghan-istan,” Lorna announced.</p><p>“You sound very proud of her.”</p><p>“I am. Are you in the Army?”</p><p>“No,” Natasha chuckled. “But my girlfriend is.”</p><p>“Cool.”</p><p>“So, what happened here?” Natasha asked, turning her attention to Lorna’s left arm, which was purpling and held awkwardly to her body. “Because that looks sore.”</p><p>Lorna hummed. “Not really.”</p><p>“You’re one tough little lady, aren’t you?” Natasha laughed.</p><p>“Thank you,” Lorna preened. “I like your hair. It’s pretty. I asked my dad if I could have green in my hair but he said no.”</p><p>“Maybe when you’re older,” Natasha smiled. “So what happened to your arm?”</p><p>“I fell off my bike.”</p><p>“Oh no.”</p><p>“It was totally worth it. You should’ve seen how fast I was going!”</p><p>Watching Lorna’s face light up with glee chased away the lingering discomfort from her argument with Sharon that morning, warming Natasha in a way only a handful of patients managed. Natasha leaned forward, examining Lorna’s arm carefully.</p><p>“Is she okay?” Charles asked.</p><p>“She’ll be fine,” Natasha assured him. “I’m pretty sure it’s just a minor fracture, but we’ll get it x-rayed just in case. The bad news is, because this is a minor injury and you’ve got such a brave girl here-” Lorna beamed at her, “-you guys are going to have to wait a while. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It's cool,” Lorna insisted, although from his expression, Charles felt differently. “Charles, can I watch a movie on your phone?”</p><p>“Of course, darling.”</p><p>“Don’t worry, she really will be fine,” Natasha promised. “I’m going to get - ah, Steve! Steve, this is Lorna and Charles.”</p><p>“Hi,” Steve waved, an easy smile on his face, the smile which automatically made everyone around him relax.</p><p>“Lorna here fell off her bike and while she’s waiting for an x-ray, I think we should get her some painkillers. She says it doesn’t hurt that much, but I think Charles would feel better if we did. Also, can you get her a sling and an ice pack to reduce swelling?”</p><p>“Of course,” Steve nodded. “Hey, <em>Zootopia</em>?” he grinned, pointing towards the phone in Lorna’s hand. “My husband loves that movie.”</p><p>“I’ll see you both soon,” Natasha said, giving Charles a final reassuring smile before leaving the cubicle only to instantly be ambushed by Bruce.</p><p>“Dr. Romanoff, can I talk to you please?”</p><p>“Of course. What is it?”</p><p>“Well, um, I was helping Dr. Pym with a patient and she’s been having these episodes of psychosis for two years. She’s been to every psychiatrist in the city and on every medication possible - you should see her file, I’ve read smaller medical textbooks - and, and they all say that it’s, uh, a result of her assault which, I, I don’t think they’re right. Now, I don’t have any medical reason to back this up, I just, I feel it. In my gut. And… And I wanna run some tests. Please. If that’s okay.”</p><p>Natasha bit back a smile. Bruce was adorable in the way all new interns and residents were, full of the passion and fire she struggled to keep alive some days.</p><p>“Do it,” she replied. “Run whatever you need. Use my name.”</p><p>“Okay. And you don’t think Dr. Pym’s going to be mad I went over her head?”</p><p>“Bruce, when it comes to your patient, don’t worry about what other doctors think,” Natasha told him.</p><p>“Okay. Uh. Thank you.”</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>9.21pm</strong>
</p><p>“So what do you think?”</p><p>Sharon jumped, Clint’s voice right in her ear. She shot him a glare before signing off on the discharge paperwork for a patient with chest pains who thought he was having a heart attack but actually had sprained muscles from exercising for the first time in six months. “About what?”</p><p>“Stark.” Clint nodded across the ER, where Stark was leading a patient into an empty room.</p><p>“Seems okay,” she shrugged. “I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to him. He did a good job with that patient he brought in. It was risky but it really paid off. He saved that guy’s life.”</p><p>“Okay, but,” Clint continued, turning to Sharon. “Steve.”</p><p>“What about him?” Sharon sighed.</p><p>Clint glanced around then leaned forward to whisper, “I think he’s flirting with Stark.”</p><p>“No,” Sharon shook her head instantly. Steve flirting with, well, anyone was unheard of. Not real flirting. He had a boyish charm and would turn on the wide blue eyes whenever they had a patient determined to ignore their instructions, which made them blush and concede, particularly when he beamed at them following their acquiesce. “You’re imagining things.”</p><p>“I am not.”</p><p>“How much coffee have you had tonight?”</p><p>“Two pots, but that’s beside the point.”</p><p>“You really need to cut down on caffeine.”</p><p>“Yeah, but then I’d need to find actual healthy coping mechanisms, and who has the time for that?”</p><p>“Hey Sharon. Barton,” Carol Danvers, head of the trauma department, greeted. “Where’s Nat?”</p><p>“Uh, I think she went to chase down x-ray,” Sharon replied. “They’re backlogged and we’re piling up down here. We have at least three patients waiting.”</p><p>“You didn’t hear it from me, but there’s some drama going on between Quill and Gamora,” Carol murmured. “Again.”</p><p>Sharon and Clint groaned. The relationship drama between the two techs had a habit of taking over the whole hospital. Sharon felt sick and it had nothing to do with… other things.</p><p>“Hey, Danvers, you worked at Mass General, didn’t you?” Clint asked.</p><p>“Yes. Why?”</p><p>“Was there a Tony Stark doing his residency then?”</p><p>Carol’s face became carefully composed as she nodded slowly. “Yeah. I knew him. Knew of him mostly. We didn’t work together.”</p><p>“He works here now. First night.”</p><p>“Really?” Carol’s expression was unreadable.</p><p>“What did you think of him?”</p><p>“As I said, we never worked together,” Carol replied. “But… Just watch the pills. That’s all I’m saying. There was… an incident.”</p><p>“A small incident or…?”</p><p>“The kind of incident after which he took some time off,” Carol said carefully. “There’s Nat. I better give her the paperwork for that drug company study. See you later.”</p><p>“So Stark took drugs,” Clint murmured as they watched Carol chase after Natasha.</p><p>“We don’t know that,” Sharon replied quickly.</p><p>“It was pretty heavily implied.”</p><p>“But we don’t know. And his residency was a long time ago. We’ve all made mistakes in the past.”</p><p>“Excuse me.” They turned to the woman leaning over the nurses’ station, pushing her hair out of her face and trying to catch her breath. “I’m looking for my nephew, he was brought in after a motorcycle accident. A <em>motorcycle</em> accident,” she muttered. “Jesus, that kid.”</p><p>“Are you May Parker?” Sharon asked. “Peter’s aunt?”</p><p>“That’s me.”</p><p>“Hi, I’m Dr Carter. I’m Peter’s doctor. I'll take you to him. Follow me.” Sharon headed towards the room in question. “Peter has a dislocated shoulder. We’re waiting for x-ray to confirm. He also has a mild concussion but we did a CT and there’s no damage. Other than that, he’s fine. Just a little road rash.”</p><p>“I can’t believe he was on that kid’s motorcycle,” May Parker muttered. “Jesus. I’ve told Peter I don’t like him hanging around with that Storm kid. I told him he was dangerous. And look what happened.”</p><p>Suddenly Peter and Johnny’s nervousness made sense. It wasn’t just about not being out as gay, it was about not being out as a couple. Sharon nodded awkwardly, pulling back the curtain.</p><p>“Here we are.”</p><p>“Peter Benjamin Parker, what the fuck?” May snapped.</p><p>Peter’s eyes went wide. “Oh, uh, hey Aunt May.”</p><p>Beside him, Johnny curled in on himself and Sharon suspected if he could sneak away or disappear, he would’ve done it the second he saw May.</p><p>“Don’t you <em>hey</em> me, Peter,” May glared. “You are grounded until you’re fifty.” Rounding on Johnny, she continued. “And you! How dare you drag Peter on that thing.”</p><p>“Aunt May, no,” Peter protested. Sharon winced.</p><p>“I’m not done with you!” Turning back to Johnny, she added, “How could you be so irresponsible? You put him in danger. That is, that is beyond irresponsible! If you wanna risk your life on that deathtrap, that’s your choice, although God knows what your parents are thinking letting you run around on that thing-”</p><p>His face like thunder, Johnny pushed past May and Sharon, disappearing out of the cubicle.</p><p>“Rude,” May huffed. “Dr Carter, how long until Peter can get an x-ray?”</p><p>“Hopefully not too long. The department is kinda backed up, I’m afraid. I’ll let you know as soon as we know.”</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>10.02pm</strong>
</p><p>“Hey, did you see that guy in cubicle three?” Scott whispered, leaning over the desk towards Steve.</p><p>Steve glanced around, before grinning as he leaned forward. “Yeah. I did. And I also saw the guy with him. How big do you think the age difference is?”</p><p>Scott shook his head. “I dunno, man. Fifteen years?”</p><p>“Gotta be more than that. At least twenty.”</p><p>Scott pushed up onto his tiptoes, eyeing the couple in question through the crack in the curtain and decided that Steve was probably right.</p><p>“I mean, I’ve been there,” Steve continued. “I tried the much older boyfriend thing and trust me, it does not work. Holy shit, did it not work. Not when one of you is in your twenties.”</p><p>“Maybe they’re the exception to the rule?” Scott wondered.</p><p>“Scott. He’s twenty-five, and he is at least in his late forties. Trust me: it doesn’t work.”</p><p>“What doesn’t work?” Stark asked, appearing out of nowhere. Scott looked around; where the hell did he come from? He’d already discovered Stark had a habit of sneaking up on people with his unnaturally silent footsteps. Scott wondered if it was a soldier thing, before remembering Sharon and her three inch heels echoing through the corridors and reassessed his assumptions.</p><p>“We’re talking about the couple in room three,” Steve explained.</p><p>“Oh, the obvious sugar daddy?”</p><p>Steve nodded. “And I was saying to Scott that age gaps that big don’t work when you’re in your twenties.”</p><p>Curiously, Stark’s expression seemed to darken for a second. But before Scott could question it too much, a slurred voice shouted, “What the hell’s taking so long?”</p><p>All three of them turned towards the owner of the voice, a whisky-soaked drunk stumbling out of the waiting room where he’d been parked, the bandage around his hand red and bloody.</p><p>“Sir,” Steve called. “Please take a seat in the waiting room. We’ll be with you as soon as we can.”</p><p>“No, you won’t,” the drunk retorted. “Fucking doctors. I’m hurt! I’m bleeding! And you don’t help. What kind of fucking doctors don’t help people, huh? Huh?”</p><p>“Alright sir,” Stark said, his tone placating, approaching the drunk slowly. “If you just take a seat-”</p><p>“Fuck that!” the drunk snapped. His fist snapped forward with surprising speed and coordination, considering his level of inebriation, and Scott jumped towards Stark, ready to help.</p><p>Only Stark didn’t need any help.</p><p>He batted the drunk’s fist away like it was nothing, doing something fancy with his hands, and the next thing Scott knew, Stark had the drunk bent forward, his arm twisted on his back.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I think I misheard you,” Stark said, raising his voice over the drunk as he shouted angrily but keeping his tone pleasant. “I think you meant to say <em>Of course, I’m sorry for being a bother.</em> Right?”</p><p>“Fuck you!” the drunk roared, trying to grab Stark’s leg with his free hand.</p><p>‘Trying’ being the important part.</p><p>Because as soon as he lunged towards Stark, Stark walked backwards in a circle, taking the drunk with him easily.</p><p>“To quote someone in this very room,” Stark continued, “I can do this all day. Now, this nice security officer is going to take you back into the waiting room, where you’re going to wait silently until it’s your turn. Like a good little dumbass.”</p><p>He released the drunk, pushing him towards Happy from security, who was waiting and instantly took the drunk by the shoulder, escorting him into the waiting room.</p><p>Scott eyed Stark and grudgingly admitted that was kinda cool. He barely even blinked in the face of the drunk’s punch and had him in the arm lock in the space of a second.</p><p>“Show off,” Steve called.</p><p>Stark turned and grinned at him. Scott also turned to look at Steve because what was with that tone? And now that he was looking at him, what was with that grin? And was that, were they <em>eye-fucking?</em> Scott had a very bad feeling due to the fact that it almost kinda looked and sounded like Clint Barton was right. And if Clint Barton was right about something involving relationships, it might be the end of days.</p><p>“For you?” Stark replied and <em>what the fuck?</em> Did he just <em>wink</em> at Steve? “Always.”</p><p>Steve shook his head, rolling his eyes, but he was still smiling and looking at Stark fondly and Scott was starting to wonder if maybe he’d walked into the twilight zone or the upside down instead.</p><p>“Alright, I’m gonna have a smoke,” Stark announced and Steve’s face fell into what was known around the ER - but never to Steve’s face - as the Steve Rogers Frown of Disapproval.</p><p>“That’s a disgusting habit,” Steve informed him. “And as a doctor, you should know that.”</p><p>“I do know that.”</p><p>“You should quit.”</p><p>“I believe someone’s told me that before.”</p><p>That was some intense eye contact going on. Scott was starting to feel vaguely uncomfortable. Had they, they did… <em>remember</em> he was standing there, right?</p><p>“Maybe you should listen then,” Steve said.</p><p>Stark huffed and when he looked at Steve, it was with eyes filled with affection and yep, they’d definitely forgotten he was standing there, Scott decided. Should he cough? Or move? Remind them he was standing right there? And oh God, his nose was starting to itch!</p><p>“Fine,” Stark acquiesced. “I will try. For you. Okay?”</p><p>“Thank you,” Steve smiled, his eyes going soft and Scott wondered if this was what it felt like watching your parents flirt. Or maybe, more accurately, your dad flirting with someone who wasn’t your mom. Oh no, he was going to sneeze.</p><p>“But if I end up eating my own body weight in Jelly Beans and M&amp;Ms then I’m blaming you!” Stark called over his shoulder and headed for the break room.</p><p>“Deal,” Steve grinned.</p><p>Scott couldn’t hold it any longer; he sneezed loudly into the fold of his elbow.</p><p>“Bless you,” Steve said, without looking up from his paperwork.</p>
<hr/><p>Hoping he looked more confident than he felt, Bruce pushed open the door to recovery, pasting on a reassuring smile. Jessica was sitting up in bed, the restraints around her wrists, blinking dazedly. Matt stood at her side, covering her hand with his own, standing sentinel.</p><p>“Hi Jessica, I’m Dr. Banner,” Bruce greeted. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“My head’s kinda fuzzy,” she replied. “Feel like I’ve spent the whole day drinking or something. Matt, what did I do?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Matt replied, with conviction Bruce admired.</p><p>“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Jessica muttered. “I was actually dumb enough to think I was doing better lately. I thought those assholes finally got me on meds that worked. Guess not.”</p><p>“Can we remove these restraints?” Matt pleaded. “Clearly she’s calm now.”</p><p>“Of course,” Bruce nodded, moving forward and unbuckling them. Jessica rubbed her wrists before taking Matt’s hand again, wincing as she shifted. “Are you hurt?”</p><p>“My back really hurts,” Jessica groaned.</p><p>“That’s because that officer tackled you to the ground,” Matt muttered, anger written across his face.</p><p>“No, it’s not,” Jessica insisted. “It’s the same pain. In my back, in my stomach. Fuck, it’s killing me,” she hissed.</p><p>“Same pain?” Bruce echoed with a burst of hope. Right now, he was drawing blanks and he’d take anything he could to figure out what this was.</p><p>“Yeah, she complains about it a lot,” Matt explained. “The doctors say it's psychosomatic.”</p><p>Jessica grunted. “Why doesn’t anybody believe me?”</p><p>“I believe you,” Bruce replied instantly. “Are you menstruating?”</p><p>Jessica glanced at him in surprise, before doubling over again. “Yeah, but this is not cramps. This makes my cramps feel like a papercut. Ouch!”</p><p>Jessica doubled over and Matt wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “This happens like twice a week,” he explained. “Maybe more.”</p><p>“Okay, I’m going to get you some morphine,” Bruce promised, his mind already racing through the possibilities. Back pain, stomach pain; could be appendicitis or pancreatitis. Kidney stones, perhaps? An ovarian cyst? “In the meantime, I’m going to order an abdominal CT and I’ll give you a pelvic ultrasound.”</p><p>“You think this pain’s real?” Matt asked hopefully.</p><p>“It is real,” Jessica muttered.</p><p>“I’m gonna find out,” Bruce promised.</p><p>“Jess? Jess, are you okay? Doctor, she’s not breathing right,” Matt called.</p><p>Alarm bells rang in Bruce’s head. “What?”</p><p>Sure enough, with every breath, a rattling wheeze echoed from Jessica. Then her eyes rolled back and she slumped forward as she went limp. She wasn’t breathing.</p><p>“I need a crash cart!” Bruce yelled, pushing Jessica onto her back, his heart pounding in his ears. His hands were shaking as he began to check her airways and he couldn’t deny the relief he felt when Dr. Romanoff appeared on the other side of the bed, efficiently passing Matt off to a nurse as she took over.</p><p>The next few minutes somehow managed to both be a complete blur and to slow down so much that Bruce saw everything, every second feeling like a minute as they fought to get Jessica breathing again. His heart was in his throat, his mouth felt like dust, and a distant part of his brain was able to remark how wonderful it was that his training kicked in and took over without him needing to think about it.</p><p>For a minute, it looked like they would have to intubate her, but then Dr. Romanoff called, “Hold the intubation. Respirations are back to normal,” and a wave of relief washed through the room.</p><p>“Scott, can you tell her lawyer friend that she’s okay?” Dr. Romanoff asked. “Steve, since she’s still out, let’s keep her on high-flow oxygen?”</p><p>“Sure thing,” Steve nodded.</p><p>“Bruce, you doing okay?” Dr. Romanoff asked, guiding him away from the bed.</p><p>“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” Bruce nodded. In truth, he wasn’t sure how he felt. He felt kind of… empty.</p><p>“You sure?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Where are her labs?”</p><p>“Uh, here.” He handed her the notes. “There’s nothing there. Nothing significant anyway.” And just like that, the anger and frustration came flooding back at full force. “I’m missing something,” he muttered. “I know I am. I, I have to be!”</p><p>“Maybe,” Dr Romanoff shrugged. “Maybe not. As much as we wish we were, doctors are miracle workers, Bruce. There’s only so much we can do. One of the hardest lessons to learn as a doctor is, sometimes, there’s nothing we can do. I have a patient waiting but if you need anything, just page me.”</p><p>She handed back the notes, turning back to check on Jessica before she left.</p><p>Bruce frowned, running his finger over the edge of the page and set his jaw. There had to be something he could do.</p><p>He refused to accept the alternative.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>11.52pm</strong>
</p><p>Hank Pym liked the ER.</p><p>He liked the ER for one very simple reason: both shifts worked well and efficiently and they rarely caused him any problems. Not like Hammer in urology, who was a malpractice suit waiting to happen, or the pharmacy, which always took longer than necessary to get a patient’s meds ready before discharge, or the board of directors who thought Hank should kneel down and kiss their ass now that he was Head of the hospital.</p><p>Hank Pym did not like being an administrator.</p><p>Nor did he like the macular degeneration which had forced him to hang up his scalpel, leave the OR behind and take a desk job if he didn’t want to retire at fifty-nine.</p><p>There was only one thing he hated more, more than macular degeneration and being an administrator and the board of directors all put together, and now that one thing was working in his ER.</p><p>“You hired a Stark,” Hank announced in lieu of greeting.</p><p>Across the nurses’ station, an orderly and the nurse he was flirting with jumped in surprise - Hank smiled internally at that - but Dr. Natasha Romanoff didn’t even blink.</p><p>There were times Hank thought he didn’t like Dr. Romanoff either, but then she would do something amazing, like bringing someone back from the brink of death or get the night shift in under budget, and he was forced to reassess. And his conclusion was that she clearly had some form of black magic, and not only because she was actually able to control the rabble which called itself the night shift.</p><p>Everyone on the night shift was at least a little crazy.</p><p>“Good evening, Dr. Pym,” Romanoff replied without looking up from her paperwork. “How can I help you?”</p><p>“You hired a Stark,” he repeated.</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“And I don’t like Starks.”</p><p>Finally Romanoff raised her head from her paperwork, arching one perfectly plucked eyebrow at him with that damned unreadable expression of hers. “Have you met Dr. Stark?”</p><p>“Which one?”</p><p>Because there were three. Or, more accurately, there were three still alive.</p><p>Dr. Howard Stark, head of cardiothoracic surgery at Cornell.</p><p>Dr. Maria Stark, leader in stem cell research.</p><p>And finally, Dr. Anthony Stark, their son who had taken up residency in Hank’s ER.</p><p>“Stark the Junior.”</p><p>“It doesn’t make a difference,” Hank pointed out. “They’re all alike. All certain they know best and that everyone else is insignificant next to their genius.”</p><p>“Hank, it’s been twenty years,” Natasha intoned, returning to her paperwork because she had no respect. “You have <em>got</em> to get over it.”</p><p>Hank scowled. He would <em>not</em> get over it.</p><p>“I don’t want some pompous little Stark swanning in here and taking over just because he’s riding on the coattails of daddy’s greatness - not that Howard Stark is so great,” Hank muttered. “Maria, she has some skill, I’ll admit that. But Howard only got to where he is because his-”</p><p>“-father was the head of the department when he left Yale and gave him the job over other better and more qualified applicants,” Romanoff recited, fixing Hank with a look.</p><p>He glowered at her. Okay, so maybe she’d heard this before.</p><p>“Sue me,” he snapped. “I don’t like Starks. They never have to work for anything. And as a result, their skills are never up to standard.”</p><p>“That’s not fair,” an angry voice objected from behind him.</p><p>Hank turned and found Nurse Rogers glaring at him.</p><p>“You know Tony graduated top of his class at Harvard, right?” Rogers pointed out. “He joined the Army to put himself through med school because Howard cut him off. And he’s served multiple tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan. And he joined the Rangers. Do you know how many soldiers graduate from Ranger school?”</p><p>“I am aware,” Hank replied, mildly amused by Rogers’ rant, not that he’d let it show.</p><p>“He has multiple citations for bravery, he’s been injured in the line of duty defending this country,” Rogers continued. “He is so much more than a- What was it? <em>A pompous little Stark.</em>”</p><p>“If he’s so great,” Hank asked, “Then why did the Army send him home early?”</p><p>That shut Rogers up.</p><p>He gaped at Hank, his mouth hanging open, and Hank noticed the way his grip on the pen went impossibly tight. Hank was a surgeon; he was an expert at noticing the little things.</p><p>“On disciplinary action, no less,” Hank continued. “Can’t be all that if they sent him home in the middle of a war.”</p><p>“Steve, can you check on that x-ray for Lorna Lehnsherr?” Romanoff called.</p><p>“Sure,” Rogers nodded, a small frown furrowing his forehead as he walked away.</p><p>Hank turned to Romanoff, raising an eyebrow at her and feeling a wave of delight at her expression. Who knew all it would take to wrong-foot the ever cool and collected Dr. Romanoff was one of her nurses expounding the virtues of Anthony Stark?</p><p>“As you can see,” Romanoff said, “Stark’s fitting in already.”</p><p>“Yes,” Hank smiled. “But to the ER or into Rogers’ pants? And before you try to deny that workplace flings happen around here all the time,” he continued, “Remember that is how I met my wife. If Stark puts one toe out of line, if there is one hint of that mess from Mass General, he is gone. Understood?”</p><p>“Yes, sir,” Romanoff nodded.</p><p>“Have a good night, Dr. Romanoff,” he nodded before leaving the nurses’ station, only to narrowly avoid being knocked off of his feet by Nurse Lang coming out of the supply room.</p><p>“Oh, uh, Dr. Pym!” Lang explained, arms spinning like a windmill as he stumbled back. Hank raised an eyebrow.” Well, Dr. Pym the senior,” Lang grinned. “Of course. Since we have two of you. What are you, uh, doing here?”</p><p>“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Hank scowled.</p><p>“No. Of course not,” Lang laughed, a little too loudly. “Why would it be? Okay… Yeah. Good chat, I’m gonna go.”</p><p>Then he scamped off through the nurses’ station. Hank watched him go, shaking his head.</p><p>Lang really was an idiot.</p><p>As Hank turned to leave, the supply room door opened again and Hope stepped out. Hank smiled automatically at the sight of his daughter, who started when her eyes fell on him.</p><p>“Dad. Hi.”</p><p>“Hi honey,” Hank replied. “I hope Lang wasn’t bothering you in there.” He glanced over his shoulder. “He has a habit of getting in people’s way.”</p><p>“Oh. No,” Hope shook her head. “No. We… barely crossed paths.”</p><p>Hank frowned. “Your lipstick’s smudged.” Surprising, with his usually so fastidious daughter.</p><p>“I ate a bagel,” Hope blurted out. “Earlier. I ate a bagel earlier. That’s probably why my lipstick is smudged. No other reason.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“I’ll go fix it,” she said with a grin just on the side of too bright, hurrying down the corridor before Hank could say a word.</p><p>He shook his head.</p><p>Yes, everyone on the night shift was at least a little crazy.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>1.42am</strong>
</p><p>“Well,” Tony said, eyeing the knife sticking out of his patient’s shoulder. “That’s not supposed to be there. Wade Wilson, right?”</p><p>“Wait, who the fuck are you?” Wilson frowned. His face scrunched in pain, his hand wavering above the blood stain on his <em>Golden Girls</em> t-shirt. “I don’t know you.”</p><p>“Frequent flyer, huh?” Tony asked. “How did this happen?”</p><p>“I’m what you might call accident prone,” Wilson grinned. “Flirted with the wrong guy at a bar, you know how it is.”</p><p>“Not for thirteen years.”</p><p>Wilson hissed, breathing heavily. “Shit. That hurts like the <em>dickens</em>. Any chance you can do something about that, doc? Do people actually call you doc, or is that something that only happens on TV?”</p><p>“You just called me doc, so I guess it’s something that happens,” Tony replied, examining the wound.</p><p>“Huh, I guess so,” Wilson snickered. “Oh man, that really hurts!”</p><p>“I’m going to get that knife out of there and stitch you up before you know what’s happening,” Tony assured him. “You make a habit of getting stabbed during fights?”</p><p>“Guess I just have one of those personalities. Can I get something for this pain?” Wilson winced, squeezing his eyes shut. “I haven’t felt this much pain since Bea Arthur died, God rest her soul.”</p><p>“Really?” Tony frowned. The wound wasn’t deep, not much more than a surface wound really. It wasn’t near any major arteries or organs. There was no reason for Wilson to be in as much pain as he appeared to be. Unless there was something he was missing. “Alright, I’ll get you some morphine for the pain, okay?”</p><p>“Thanks, doc,” Wilson winced.</p><p>“I’ll be right back.”</p><p>Tony left the room, crossing to the nurses’ station. He glanced over his shoulder at Wilson, then frowned. Because the tense, shaking, pain-wracked patient he’d been speaking to was gone. Now, Wilson was lying still, so still he might’ve been asleep, were it not for the way he was poking curiously at the skin around the knife.</p><p>“Hey, uh, Wanda, is it?” Tony asked, glancing at the red-headed nurse sitting at the computer. “Do me a favour and get me the full medical history of my patient, name Wade Wilson? Thanks.”</p><p>Returning to the room, Tony called, “Pain comes and goes, huh?”</p><p>Wilson jerked in surprise and then he hissed loudly and began to shake again. “Yeah… Yeah, kinda comes in, uh... waves.”</p><p>Tony’s hand twitched around the tablet as he scrolled through Wilson’s notes. “You were in here four weeks ago with a broken nose. And three weeks before that with a dislocated shoulder. Two months ago you got stabbed in the leg.”</p><p>“Told you, I have one of those faces. People just take a dislike to me. I don’t know why. I’m perfectly likeable. Delightful, even.”</p><p>“On every occasion, you were given morphine.”</p><p>Wilson’s face fell. He scowled at Tony. “What the fuck would you know about it? Come on, just give the morphine. I have a knife in my shoulder!”</p><p>Tony pursed his lips. “I’ll be right back.” His brain itched and he needed something to soothe it, a smoke or a drink or a-</p><p>No.</p><p>He slammed the door on that train of thought and walked out of the room as quickly as he could without looking like he was running away. Which he wasn’t. Much.</p><p>“Hey! Hey, doc! Come on, you can’t just leave me here! What the fuck, man?” Wilson bellowed after him but Tony just kept walking.</p>
<hr/><p>“How are you doing?” Natasha asked, letting herself into Lorna’s room.</p><p>“Good,” she chirped before turning her attention back to Charles’ phone.</p><p>“And you?” Natasha asked Charles, who looked tired and worn.</p><p>“She’s on the third viewing of the same movie, so I think my sanity’s on its way out,” he replied with a wan smile.</p><p>Natasha chuckled. “I have some news for you. I took a look at Lorna’s x-ray, and her arm is broken. But it’s a clean break, minor fracture, so once we get it set, you’ll be good to go.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Charles murmured emphatically.</p><p>“No problem. Anyway-”</p><p>“Uh, Dr Romanoff, excuse me?”</p><p>Natasha turned and found Stark standing in the doorway, looking vaguely uncomfortable although he covered it well. “Yes?”</p><p>“It’s about my patient.”</p><p>“I’ll be right back,” she told Charles, moving towards Stark. “Is there a problem?”</p><p>“I think he’s a drug addict,” Stark explained, his voice low. “Look at the pattern of injuries. It sounds crazy, but I think he’s doing them to himself to get the hit. He claims to be in way more pain than I’d expect for a surface wound, but when he thought I wasn’t looking, he relaxed and got angry when I asked him about it.”</p><p>Natasha nodded, scrolling through the medical history of - she glanced at the name - Wade Wilson. “Okay. And?”</p><p>“Given my… personal history, would it be possible to get someone else on this? I don’t think I can be objective,” he admitted.</p><p>“Alright. Talk to Clint, his patient’s about to be admitted and if you’re quick, you’ll get him before he dives into the coffee machine again.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Stark nodded. “Sorry to interrupt,” he called to Charles and Lorna. “Is that <em>Zootopia</em>?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Lorna exclaimed.</p><p>Stark grinned. “I love that movie.”</p><p>“Sorry about that,” Natasha apologised. “As I was saying, I’ll get a nurse in here and we’ll get your arm plastered up and then you can go home.”</p>
<hr/><p>He should leave, go home, except Johnny couldn’t do that for two reasons.</p><p>One: he wanted to know Peter was okay.</p><p>Two: <em>home</em> wasn’t in San Antonio. Home was a long way away and it was destroyed when his dad decided his two kids weren’t worth carrying on for and didn’t care that his teenage son would be left alone once he went to jail.</p><p>Johnny buried his hands into his pocket and slouched against the wall, glancing up when someone exited the ER, his heart doing that funny little jump in his chest until he saw it wasn’t Peter but a doctor in blue scrubs.</p><p>(In the beginning, when his heart started doing that weird jumping thing, Johnny wondered if something was wrong with him. Eventually, he realised it only happened when he was around Peter, or looking at Peter, or thinking about Peter.)</p><p>Johnny watched the doctor step away from the door, linking his fingers and stretching his arms above his head as he yawned. Then the doctor fished a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, flicking it open before pausing.</p><p>The doctor sighed.</p><p>“Right,” he muttered, pushing the pack back into his pocket.</p><p>Then the doctor turned and spotted Johnny.</p><p>Johnny ducked his head and shrank back, wishing he could blend into the wall and be forgotten, ignored. Sometimes he thought he’d like it if Peter was the only one who could see him.</p><p>“Hey,” the doctor called, walking towards him. “You okay?”</p><p>“Fine,” Johnny muttered.</p><p>The doctor raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, because people who have clearly been crying are notorious for living their best lives,” he said dryly.</p><p>Johnny rubbed his eyes self consciously.</p><p>“Hey,” the doctor’s voice softened and he sounded concerned, like he really cared, not the false concern the teachers and the social workers infused their voices with when they were dealing with him. The concern wriggled its way through Johnny’s walls, jabbing and poking at his already fragile defences. “Are you waiting for somebody? Or do you need help?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Johnny insisted, but when he jerked away, his wrist twinged and the movement pulled on his shirt where it was stuck to one of the grazes on his arm. “Fuck!”</p><p>“Come on, kid,” the doctor said. “Come inside, let me take a look at you. I’m Dr. Stark. And you are?”</p><p>“Johnny.”</p><p>“Come on, Johnny.”</p><p>Johnny let Dr. Stark lead him inside because it felt so good to have someone show genuine care and concern for him. He’d almost forgotten what that felt like since his dad went to prison and his sister left for college. And even though he knew it would just hurt more to go back to no one caring afterwards, he let Dr. Stark pull him along like a moth to a flame because he was just a kid and he was tired.</p><p>“Here we go,” Dr. Stark said, pulling the door of the room closed behind them. Johnny glanced around; the room was almost identical to the one Peter was in. At Dr. Stark’s prompting, he hopped up onto the edge of the bed. “So, what are you doing here?”</p><p>“I was riding my bike,” Johnny explained. “My boyfriend was with me. And there was this car, this… red Buick, I think, it came out of nowhere, it was coming the other way and came into my lane. I swerved and I missed it, but the bike skidded on the gravel at the side of the road and, and it fell. Peter got hurt so I called an ambulance.”</p><p>“And you didn’t get checked over?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Johnny insisted. “Peter matters more.”</p><p>Dr. Stark hummed. “Do you think Peter would agree with that?”</p><p>Johnny shrugged.</p><p>“Let me see,” Dr Stark said gently.</p><p>Johnny peeled off his jacket carefully, wincing again when he knocked his wrist and pain shot along his arm.</p><p>“Easy,” Dr. Stark murmured, taking the jacket from him.</p><p>“My shirts’s kinda stuck to my arm,” Johnny admitted. “It was bleeding and-”</p><p>“Okay,” Dr. Stark nodded. “Where?”</p><p>“Here and here.”</p><p>“I have an idea.” Dr. Stark filled a tub with water from the sink, taking it and a cloth and sitting opposite Johnny. He soaked the cloth and laid it over his shirt where it was stuck to his arm. “Here we go. Just give it a minute. So, if your boyfriend is in here getting treated, why are you lurking outside like a vampire waiting to be invited in?”</p><p>“His aunt doesn’t know he’s gay,” Johnny shrugged. “And she doesn’t like me. Thinks I’m a bad influence.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’ve been there,” Dr. Stark nodded. “Well. Sort of. My dad didn’t approve of me being gay, and he definitely did not approve of the guy I was dating.”</p><p>“He didn’t think he was good enough for you?”</p><p>“No, dad didn’t think I was good enough for him,” Dr. Stark grinned. He helped Johnny out of his shirt. “My dad and I didn’t have a close relationship.”</p><p>“My dad was amazing,” Johnny said quietly, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “But I don’t know what he would’ve thought about me being gay.”</p><p>“Was?”</p><p>Johnny nodded. “He, uh, he’s in prison. My mom died and he… he didn’t do so good without her. My sister left for college too and…” He shrugged. “Yeah.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry, kid,” Dr. Stark said and unlike most people, he actually meant it. Johnny liked him. He would be a good dad. He wouldn’t abandon his son.</p><p>“Do you have kids?”</p><p>Dr. Stark smiled. “Not yet.”</p><p>“What happened with your dad?” Johnny asked, hissing when Dr. Stark cleaned the graze on his arm with antiseptic fluid.</p><p>“Oh, he cut me off. Disinherited me, told me never to show my face again until I was ready to settle down with a nice girl and pop out a couple of kids. I gave him a counter offer where I settled down with a nice guy and adopted a couple of kids but he didn’t take me up on it. Kind of awkward, considering he was, you know, paying for medical school which I was only halfway through.”</p><p>“What did you do?”</p><p>“I joined the Army. Let me take a look at that wrist.”</p><p>“Maybe I should join the Army,” Johnny mused. What else was he going to do with his life?</p><p>“Kid, take my advice: don’t join the Army. You have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up. Okay, I don’t think your wrist is broken, but I’m gonna sneak you in for an x-ray just to be sure,” Dr. Stark said, getting to his feet. “Hey, listen. I know things are rough right now, but you’re sixteen. You’ve got a lot of life still to live. And as for your boyfriend? Relationships are hard. Believe me. I know. But if you find the right person, it’s all worth it. And you can make it work.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Johnny smiled.</p><p>“Come on, let’s get that x-ray done and then let’s get you back to your boyfriend.”</p><p>“His aunt doesn’t want me there.”</p><p>“Yeah, but I’m going to say Peter probably wants you there as much as you want to be with him.” Pushing his hands into his pockets, Dr. Stark smiled privately. “I know a little something about that.”</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>3.11am</strong>
</p><p>Clint narrowly avoided Sharon as she sprinted down the hall, glancing over his shoulder to see her disappear into the restroom. He shrugged. Shifts were like that sometimes. He stepped into the nurses’ station and almost tripped over a pair of feet sticking out from underneath the desk. Steadying himself against the back of a chair, Clint ducked his head and confirmed his suspicion that the feet belonged to Steve.</p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>Steve smiled. “Hi.”</p><p>“Hammer?”</p><p>“Hammer,” Steve confirmed.</p><p>Clint nodded and continued filling in the admission paperwork for Wade Wilson. Sure enough, down the hall he could hear the voice of Dr Justin Hammer of the Urology department, no doubt terrorising any members of staff he found in Steve’s absence.</p><p>“Uh, should I ask?” a new voice asked.</p><p>Clint glanced over his shoulder; Stark was leaning on the other side of the nurses’ station, his head tilted to the side, frowning at Steve.</p><p>“I’m hiding,” Steve explained.</p><p>“I can see that,” Stark nodded, an amused smile playing on the edges of his lips. “The question is: why?”</p><p>“He’s hiding from Dr. Hammer,” Clint explained. “He’s a dick from Urology who keeps asking Steve out. Despite the fact he’s married,” he added pointedly because it couldn’t hurt to remind Steve of his husband, to whom he was supposedly devoted to.</p><p>Stark frowned. “You want me to say something to him?”</p><p>Clint pulled a face. Seriously?</p><p>“Thank you,” Steve said and when Clint leaned back to glance down, he found Steve looking at Stark with a dopey expression on his face.</p><p>Gross.</p><p>“But it’s okay. I can take care of myself,” Steve continued.</p><p>“I know you can,” Stark smiled.</p><p>And seriously, what the fuck was up with these two? Clint rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Attention,” Natasha’s voice rang out, drawing everyone’s attention. Steve scooted forward, accepting Clint’s hand to jump to his feet. “The fire department just called. There’s an accident out by Dunlay and the paramedics need a doctor on the scene. The chopper’ll be here in five minutes.”</p><p>“I’ll go,” Stark volunteered.</p><p>“Alright, grab your gear,” Natasha agreed.</p><p>Stark nodded and jogged off towards the locker room, and Steve watched him go. Clint scoffed under his breath and handed off the completed paperwork to Wanda. He glanced up as Stark reappeared with his jacket and medical kit.</p><p>“Be careful,” Steve called.</p><p>“I always am,” Stark replied.</p><p>Steve snorted. “I know that’s not true.”</p><p>When Clint looked up again, he saw the tender look passing between them and barely suppressed the urge to groan out loud.</p><p>“Think he’ll be okay?” Steve asked as Stark ran out of the ER.</p><p>“He’s a big boy,” Clint replied. “Stark can take care of himself. Of course he’ll be fine.”</p>
<hr/><p>Bruce bit back the urge to growl, running his hands through his hair even though Betty always used to tell him it made his hair stick up like a bird’s nest. Well. Even more than usual. Snatching up Jessica’s notes, he flicked through them yet again even though he’d already been through them a hundred times.</p><p>A hundred and one couldn’t hurt though, right?</p><p>Bruce huffed, barely containing the growl this time.</p><p>“How’s it going?” Dr. Romanoff asked, sticking her head into the room. Bruce glowered at her and Dr. Romanoff chuckled. “That good, huh?”</p><p>“Maybe I’m wrong,” Bruce snapped. “Maybe I’m just being stupid and stubborn and pigheaded.”</p><p>“But you don’t think you’re wrong. Do you?”</p><p>Bruce sighed. “No. My gut tells me there’s something wrong here that isn’t psychiatric.” He gave in and allowed a growl of frustration to slip out, rubbing his hair again and running through the symptoms in his head: seizures, respiratory paralysis, stomach pains, back pains, skin lesions, paranoia, hallucinations…</p><p>Autoimmune hepatitis? No, her antibodies were normal.</p><p>Bruce sighed again, opened his eyes and froze.</p><p>“Bruce?”</p><p>He pointed at Jessica’s catheter bag. “Purple pee. She has purple pee! GI and neuro symptoms, diaphragmatic paralysis, seizures, skin blisters, and purple pee! Porphyria!”</p><p>Dr. Romanoff smiled at him. Bruce suspected that for Dr. Romanoff, a smile was like grinning from ear to ear. “Good job, Bruce. Let’s run the tests to confirm your diagnosis.”</p><p>Bruce grinned.</p><p>Maybe Dr Ross was wrong. Maybe he could make it as a doctor.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>3.27am</strong>
</p><p>The wind whipped up by the medevac’s blades tugged at the stray hairs which had wormed their way loose from her ponytail as the night progressed. Maria watched as the door slid open and an unfamiliar man hopped out, ducking down expertly below the blades and jogging over to her.</p><p>“Who the hell are you?” she yelled over the engine noise.</p><p>“Doctor Tony Stark,” he called back. “And you are?”</p><p>“Maria Hill. Paramedic. This way.” She led Stark down the road towards the accident, ducking below the police tape. “The driver said the Buick came out of nowhere, driving on the wrong side of the road and-”</p><p>“Wait. Did you say Buick?” Stark interrupted. “Red?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah. How did you know?”</p><p>“Long story.”</p><p>“Anyway,” she continued, “Turns out the driver was off his head. Went on a binge then decided he was going to drive to Houston to see his ex.”</p><p>“Houston is in the other direction.”</p><p>Maria shrugged. “Told you he was wasted. Asshole got away without so much as a scratch too.”</p><p>“Like hell I’m going anywhere!” a voice roared from the ambulance on the other side of the road.</p><p>“Is that Logan Howlett?” Stark exclaimed.</p><p>“You know him? He’s the driver of the other car. It’s his daughter you’re here to help. His wife works at the hospital.”</p><p>“Jean? I went to med school with her,” Stark said absently. “Huh. She actually procreated with him. That’s disappointing. I thought she had better taste.”</p><p>“You don’t sound like you like him,” Maria observed.</p><p>“He flirted with my boyfriend once,” Stark shrugged. “Normally I don’t do jealousy, but we’d only been dating a few weeks and I really liked him. So, his kid?”</p><p>“She’s still in the SUV,” Maria nodded. “We didn’t want to move her, that’s why we called you. The doors are jammed, you gotta go in through the sunroof.”</p><p>Stark nodded, tossing his kit towards her and jumping onto the top of the SUV. “What’s her name?”</p><p>“Laura.”</p><p>Stark stuck his head in through the sunroof. Maria lingered by the side of the vehicle, ready to assist in any way she could. Inside the SUV, Laura Howlett stared at Stark with blank eyes, blood congealed on the side of her head and matting her hair.</p><p>Calls involving kids were always the worst.</p><p>“Hey Laura, I’m Tony,” Stark smiled. “Listen, I know you’re scared and I know it hurts, but I’m gonna get you out of here. I promise. Okay? Don’t worry,” he winked. “I’ve got you. Can you move your fingers for me?” he asked, pressing his fingers to her throat to check for a pulse. “That’s it, that’s great. Good girl. Okay, I’ll be right back.”</p><p>Stark sat up, scooting towards the edge of the roof.</p><p>“How bad is it?” Maria asked.</p><p>“Her skull is separated from her spinal column,” Stark murmured. “I can see them moving separately with each breath she takes. Shit. The only thing holding her skull in place is the neck muscles. The good news is she still has motor control in her extremities so the spinal cord isn’t severed. I’m going to sedate her and then we can get her out of here. I need you to call the hospital, have Danvers on standby. The minute we get back, she’s going straight into OR.”</p><p>“Got it,” Maria nodded. She jogged towards the fire crew. “Hey! We’re gonna need you guys to make a mini body board to fit in there. Get me blankets from the ambulance; normal blocks won’t fit so we’re gonna improvise some blocks to steady her head. And someone call the hospital and get Carol Danvers on standby, do you understand people?”</p><p>Shouts of affirmative came back to her from the fire crew and paramedics as she turned back towards the SUV. Stark was already hanging upside down through the sunroof again, murmuring reassurances to Laura. He glanced up as Maria approached - or was it down?</p><p>“You’re a ferocious woman, Maria Hill,” he grinned. “I like you.”</p><p>“My life is now complete,” she deadpanned and Stark burst out laughing.</p>
<hr/><p>“Is that the crash Stark went out to?” Clint asked, nodding towards the monitor in the corner of the nurses’ station that someone had turned on to the local news. Shaky footage taken from a helicopter above the scene zoomed in on a crashed SUV with-</p><p>“There he is,” Steve said, leaning forward.</p><p>“You can tell from his ass?” Clint blinked. He leaned back, meeting Scott’s eyes behind Steve’s back and raising an eyebrow.</p><p>Scott grimaced and shrugged.</p><p>“Holy shit, are they cutting into the car while Tony’s on it?” Steve exclaimed. “What the fuck?”</p><p>Sure enough, Clint saw sparks flying as the fire crew used the jaws of life to cut into the SUV, no doubt to get the patient out of there.</p><p>“Hey, how are they doing?” Hope asked, leaning over the desk. “Is that Stark?”</p><p>“<em>You</em> recognise his ass too?” Scott exclaimed.</p><p>“No, he’s wearing scrubs,” she rolled her eyes.</p><p>“Oh, so that’s how you knew,” Clint realised, turning to Steve.</p><p>“No, I recognised his ass,” Steve said absently, shifting closer to the screen.</p><p>“I hope they get out of there soon,” Hope said. “There’s a storm coming in.”</p><p>Steve looked up sharply. “What?”</p><p>“Yeah. Apparently a thunderstorm’s going to hit in the next half an hour,” Hope shrugged.</p><p>“Shit,” Steve hissed. “Ah, shit.”</p><p>Clint caught Scott and Hope’s attention, indicating with his head that they should join him in the corridor. “Okay, is it just me, or does this feel like more than flirting now?” he murmured. “I mean, yeah, I’m worried about the guy but Steve looks like he’s either about to cry or go out there himself.”</p><p>“It does seem a little, you know, over the top for a guy he literally met tonight,” Scott agreed.</p><p>“Steve’s just a nice guy,” Hope insisted. “He’d be that worried about any of us if we were out there. Remember when Sharon had food poisoning last week? He’s the definition of a mother hen.”</p><p>“He recognised Stark by his ass.”</p><p>“Okay, yeah, I don’t have an explanation for that,” she admitted. “Although Stark does have a good ass.”</p><p>Scott’s head snapped up. “What?”</p><p>“When does Steve’s husband get home again?” Hope asked.</p><p>“Three weeks, I think,” Clint replied. He peered around the corner; Steve was biting his nails, his muscles bunched with all the tension in his frame.</p><p>“That’s if he gets back on time,” Hope reminded them. “Remember Sharon’s last deployment? It got extended by a month.”</p><p>Clint swallowed. “His marriage might not have a month.”</p>
<hr/><p>“It’s porphyria,” Bruce announced.</p><p>“I’m sorry, what?” Matt frowned.</p><p>“Porphyria,” Dr. Romanoff explained. “It’s a genetic condition, due to a mutation in the genes which make heme. It’s manageable and we’re going to refer you to a specialist.”</p><p>“So I’m not crazy?” Jessica asked, her voice wobbling and Bruce experienced a surge of protectiveness, despite the fact she had nearly ten years on him.</p><p>“You are not crazy,” he insisted. “All the symptoms, including the psychosis, are related to your porphyria. It has absolutely nothing to do with anything you’ve been through.”</p><p>Jessica let out a wet sob, leaning into Matt’s side. He rubbed her arm and squeezed her tight. Bruce smiled.</p><p>“Thank you,” Matt said, his voice thick. “Thank you for listening to us.”</p><p>“Thank Dr. Banner,” Dr. Romanoff told them. “He refused to give up.”</p><p>Bruce shrugged. “Just doing my job.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Jessica smiled.</p><p>“You’re welcome.”</p><p>Bruce followed Dr. Romanoff out of the room. Once in the corridor, she turned to him, smiling proudly. “Good job.”</p><p>He shrugged again. “I just listened to my gut. And to my patient.”</p><p>“But you were the only one who did.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, if I was okay with doing nothing, I wouldn’t have become a doctor,” he pointed out, feeling a brief flare of his earlier anger returning.</p><p>“We need more like you, Bruce,” Dr. Romanoff said, studying him with calculating eyes. “I won’t lie to you: ER is hard. We have two options: up or out. Up for the patients who need to be admitted. Out for the ones which don’t need to be here. Demand always outweighs availability. The truth is we don’t have the time or the resources to spend this long on every patient. One in ten patients discharged from the ER return with the same symptoms. We’re fighting a losing battle most nights, caught between what we can do and what we wish we could do.”</p><p>“Then why did you let me do all these tests?” Bruce frowned. “Why not just discharge her?”</p><p>Dr. Romanoff shrugged. “Call it a gut feeling.”</p><p>She winked at him and Bruce stared dumbly as she walked away. Dr. Romanoff was confusing and weird, but also kinda wonderful, he decided.</p><p>“Dr. Banner?” He turned to find Dr. Carter sticking her head out of another room. “Can I get a hand in here?”</p><p>“Coming,” Bruce nodded.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>5.05am</strong>
</p><p>“That’s bad for you,” Hope said as she joined him outside, staring out at the rain hammering the parking lot. Scott held out his packet of cigarettes to her; Hope glanced at him, then took one, holding it between her teeth as she pulled out her lighter. “Thanks.”</p><p>“We’re terrible examples, aren’t we?” Scott frowned. “Well, you’re worse than I am because you’re a doctor. I’m just a lowly nurse.”</p><p>Hope flipped him off.</p><p>“Oh God, please let me sniff you!” Clint exclaimed, darting out of the ER and inhaling loudly. “Oh, that’s the stuff.”</p><p>“How’s quitting going?” Hope raised her eyebrows.</p><p>“I fucking hate you all,” Clint moaned. “Why did you have to dare me to quit?”</p><p>“Because we love you and care about your health?” Scott replied.</p><p>“Then why don’t you quit too?”</p><p>“No way,” Scott snorted as Hope muttered, “No chance.”</p><p>“Fine. Then the least you can do is let me smell your second-hand smoke.”</p><p>“We’re definitely terrible examples,” Scott decided.</p><p>They all glanced up at the sound of helicopter blades; a few seconds later, the Medevac landed by the parking lot and a group of orderlies sprinted out into the rain with a gurney. The Medevac doors opened and a small body strapped into a board was quickly but carefully loaded onto the gurney and rushed inside.</p><p>Hope nudged Scott with her elbow. When he turned, she nodded towards the ER doors; leaning past her and Clint, he spotted Steve standing in the doorway, his eyes glued to the Medevac. Scott shared a significant look with Hope and Clint.</p><p>Then Stark jumped out of the Medevac, jogging to get under the overhang and out of the driving rain, and Steve sprinted forward. Scott’s eyebrows flew up as Steve embraced Stark. They were talking but distance and the rain made it impossible to hear what they were saying. Steve had his back to them, but Scott could see Stark’s face and his expression was soft and adoring as he looked up at Steve. Then he cupped Steve’s cheek with his palm, saying something inaudible, and Steve clearly leaned into the touch.</p><p>It was weird, Scott decided, kinda like watching your dad and your teacher hugging. Not that that had ever happened to him, per se - at least, God, he hoped not. He shuddered. It was the idea or the principle or something.</p><p>Scott never managed to work out what it was, because at that moment Steve leaned forward and kissed Stark.</p><p>Scott choked on his cigarette. Hope helpfully slapped him between the shoulder blades, while staring open-mouthed herself at Stark and Steve exchanging soft kisses in front of staff, patients, and the hospital CCTV cameras.</p><p>“Holy shit,” Clint breathed. “Steve’s cheating on his husband with Stark.”</p><p>“We should go, right?” Scott suggested.</p><p>“Yeah,” Clint agreed.</p><p>Scott and Hope hastily stubbed out their cigarettes. Throwing one last glance over his shoulder, Scott saw Steve press his forehead against Stark’s.</p><p>
  <em>Shit.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>“Johnny?” Sharon called softly but the teenager slumped in the corner of the waiting room still jumped. His eyes went wide so Sharon gave him a reassuring smile. “How are you doing? I heard Dr. Stark patched you up.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Johnny replied, eying her warily, as though he expected to be scolded for not telling her about his injuries. “I’m okay.”</p><p>“Good,” she smiled. “Can you come with me? There’s something I think you and Peter need to know. And I think you could use the reassurance of seeing him yourself.”</p><p>“Is he okay?” Johnny asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket as they made their way through the corridor.</p><p>“He’s fine. We’re just waiting for the discharge paperwork. Here we are,” Sharon announced, opening the door to Peter’s room.</p><p>Peter’s face lit up when he saw Johnny; in contrast, May Parker scowled. “What is he doing here?”</p><p>“I thought, now that Johnny’s injuries have been treated,” Sharon explained, “These two could use the opportunity to see each other. And also, I have some news. Johnny, Dr. Stark told me that you were avoiding a red Buick on the wrong side of the road when your bike crashed, is that right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Johnny nodded, his eyes boring into the floor.</p><p>“Then it’s a good job you did,” Sharon continued, keeping an eye on May Parker. “Because a few hours later, that same Buick crashed into an SUV, seriously injuring the driver and his daughter. She’s in surgery right now. The Buick’s driver was three times over the legal limit. Your actions probably saved both your lives.”</p><p>“Wait, what?” May frowned. “You didn’t tell me there was a car,” she said to Peter.</p><p>“I didn’t see any car!” he exclaimed. He turned to Johnny. “You got hurt? Are you okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m fine. Just scratches,” Johnny shrugged.</p><p>Sharon noticed May Parker watching Johnny with a small frown. Then she stepped forward, squaring her shoulders, and Sharon saw Johnny visibly steel himself. To his credit, he didn’t shy away, although his jaw looked tense enough to snap.</p><p>“I think I owe you an apology,” May announced. “I’m sorry, Johnny. I shouldn’t have blamed you without all the facts.”</p><p>“S’okay,” he shrugged. “I woulda blamed me too. I mean, look at my dad.”</p><p>“What are you talking about?” May frowned.</p><p>“I didn’t tell her,” Peter said quietly.</p><p>Johnny ducked his head. “My dad’s in prison. He, uh, he hurt some people.”</p><p>“So who are you staying with?”</p><p>“Foster home.”</p><p>“No, you’re not,” May decided. “You’re coming home with us.”</p><p>Johnny’s jaw dropped. “What?”</p><p>“We’ll call your social worker and get things straightened out,” May continued. “Although considering you’ve been here all night and they haven’t come looking for you, I’m going to have words with them. I mean, honestly, you’re only sixteen. You’re a child. Haven’t they heard of this thing called duty of care?”</p><p>Sharon smiled to herself, enjoying the look of confusion on Johnny’s face as May swept him into her arms and hugged him. Peter and Johnny shared a look over her shoulder, communicating silently, and Sharon had a good feeling about those two.</p><p>“Uh, Aunt May? There’s something we should probably tell you first,” Peter began.</p><p>Sharon slipped out of the room to give them some privacy. Coming out was hard enough, without a stranger standing in the room. She crossed to the nurses’ station where she could keep an eye on them unobtrusively but there turned out to be no need. Peter hadn’t even stopped talking before May was pulling him into a hug, mindful of his cast, dragging Johnny in too.</p><p>“All that worrying for nothing, huh boys?” Sharon murmured to herself.</p><p>She caught sight of Natasha and a wave of guilt washed over her, followed by a healthy dose of nerves. Taking a deep breath, she hurried after Natasha, catching her wrist and tugging her into the supply room.</p><p>“Sharon, what-”</p><p>“I have something I need to tell you,” Sharon interrupted. “I was scared to bring it up but then I realised I was being stupid. Chances are, all my worrying is going to be for nothing. So here goes.”</p><p>She took a deep breath.</p><p>“I’m pregnant. Just before we got together, I hooked up with this guy. Things happened, and it turns out more things happened than I planned. That’s why I didn’t want to go to your parents’ anniversary party.”</p><p>Natasha frowned. “I don’t understand. Why would that stop you from coming with me?”</p><p>“Because we’ve only been together for a month,” Sharon explained and dammit, she could feel tears building. She was only barely pregnant and already she hated the hormones. She could not spend the next eight months crying. It would completely ruin her reputation. “And I’m having a baby. Because I am. Having it. And I can’t ask you to commit to this after a month.”</p><p>Natasha stepped forward, taking Sharon’s hands and squeezing them gently. “Sharon, I’ve known you for three years now. Even if we weren’t together, I’d still be there for you. Because you’re my best friend. And… I like kids. And your kid? I’m going to love your kid.”</p><p>Sharon huffed out a laugh. She closed her eyes as Natasha’s hand slipped onto the back of her neck, drawing her close until their foreheads were touching.</p><p>“We don’t have to make a decision about our future right now,” Natasha whispered. “If you don’t want us to be together, then that’s fine.”</p><p>“That is not what I want,” Sharon whispered. “But you didn’t sign up for-”</p><p>“Sharon,” Natasha interrupted. “I love you. And I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p>“Wait, what? You… You love me?”</p><p>“Of course I love you,” Natasha replied.</p><p>Sharon tried and failed to swallow the lump in her throat. She had to let go of Natasha’s hands to wave them in front of her face in a vain attempt to stave off her tears.</p><p>“Oh, God, I hate these hormones already.”</p><p>Natasha laughed and drew her into her arms. “So. Can we try and make decisions together from now on?”</p><p>Sharon nodded, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend - her girlfriend! Natasha was still her girlfriend - and buried her face in Natasha’s neck. “Yeah. That sounds good.”</p><p>Natasha pulled back a little, keeping her hands on Sharon’s waist and smiled, her eyes sparkling. Sharon’s stomach swooped in a way that had nothing to do with morning sickness. “So. You’re having a baby.”</p><p>“I’m having a baby,” she echoed, letting herself be excited about the news for the first time since she’d seen the plus sign on the pregnancy test.</p>
<hr/><p>The door closed behind Sharon and Natasha as they left the supply closet and Hope let out the breath she’d been holding since the door first opened.</p><p>“That was close,” Scott murmured into her collarbone.</p><p>“Too close,” she agreed, running her hand through his hair. “If they heard us-”</p><p>“That would be all kinds of embarrassing,” he finished. “I mean, did you know they were together?”</p><p>“I did not. I don’t think anyone does. I mean, if Clint knew then everyone would know which is why we <em>do not tell him about this</em>.”</p><p>“Right. Don’t tell Clint that Sharon’s dating Natasha,” Scott nodded.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Oh! Don’t tell Clint that Sharon’s pregnant, of course.”</p><p>Hope rolled her eyes. Scott was an amazing nurse - top of his class at Johns Hopkins - but he was also a complete and utter dumbass. And she really shouldn’t find him as attractive as she did.</p><p>“<em>No.</em> We don’t tell him about this,” she said, waving her finger between the two of them. “Because Clint is incapable of keeping a secret and if my dad finds out about us-”</p><p>“Right!” Scott nodded. “That would be bad.”</p><p>“It would be very bad,” she agreed. “Because there is no way he would approve of you.”</p><p>“Which is ridiculous,” he sniffed. “Because I’m delightful.”</p><p>“You’re an idiot.”</p><p>Scott’s eyes danced, the little wrinkles at the corners crinkling when he smiled, and that shouldn’t make her melt like that, dammit, Hope! “I’m your idiot,” he crooned softly.</p><p>Hope huffed. “That is cheesy and ridiculous and cliched and-”</p><p>“And you love it,” Scott grinned.</p><p>She did.</p><p>“Shut up,” Hope muttered, yanking Scott in to a kiss.</p><p>She loved this idiot.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>6.40am</strong>
</p><p>The sun was coming up outside the window of his room. Wade glared at it. Then he glared at the IV in his arm. Then he looked up, hearing the door open, and glared at the doctor responsible for him being here.</p><p>“You couldn’t just give me the pills?” he asked Dr. Stark.</p><p>“Nope,” Dr. Stark replied.</p><p>“You could say sorry.”</p><p>“I could. But I’m not. So I won’t.”</p><p>“You’re an asshole,” Wade informed him cheerfully.</p><p>“So are you,” Dr. Stark replied, sitting in the chair next to his bed. “How are you doing?”</p><p>“Oh great. Withdrawal is <em>so much fun</em>,” he deadpanned. “I am having the time of my life. Excuse me!” he called to a passing nurse. “Can you take a selfie of me and my friend? I want to commemorate this moment forever.”</p><p>“If it’s a selfie, you can take it yourself,” Dr. Stark pointed out.</p><p>“Thank you Dr. Pedantic. You have been so helpful.” Wade yanked the blankets viciously. Honestly, he didn’t know why he was still here. He should just yank out the IV and walk out the door. And if they hadn’t taken his favourite shirt, he would do just that. Screw the pants, he’d walk away with his ass hanging out, but he wasn’t leaving Dorothy behind. “What are you doing here, anyway? You ditched me with that other doc.”</p><p>“Wanted to check up on you,” Dr. Stark shrugged.</p><p>“If you cared, why’d you run away like a little baby? Did dealing with the druggie vet hurt your delicate sensibilities?” he pouted.</p><p>“No, hit a little too close to home actually.”</p><p>“What would you know about it?”</p><p>“Serving or addiction? Because I know about both. A little over forty-eight hours ago, I was in Afghanistan with my unit. And when I was a resident, I was hooked on prescription painkillers.”</p><p>“A rich doctor like you? What do you have to worry about?”</p><p>“The doctor in me says that socio-economic background doesn’t play a part in mental illness or addiction,” Dr. Stark replied, twisting his fingers together. He smiled wryly. “But the addict in me says absolutely nothing and that I should be ashamed of being so weak.”</p><p>“Brains are dicks like that, huh?”</p><p>Dr. Stark laughed. “Yeah, they really are.”</p><p>Wade eyed him, but he couldn’t get a read on Dr. Stark. Rich dude, clearly, he was a fucking doctor after all. Everyone knew you needed to be loaded to be a doctor. But military too? An officer probably and, ew, Wade could taste the bile at the thought. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but whatever. Dr. Stark ditched him but then he came back to check on him? Dude was weird.</p><p>“So why are you here, doc?”</p><p>“To… give some advice I guess. If I can in a way that doesn’t make me sound like a pretentious douche.”</p><p>“That would be appreciated. This is a pretentious douche no-fly zone.”</p><p>Dr. Stark rubbed his palms together slowly. “If you can’t get clean for yourself, for whatever bullshit reason your brain gives you, then do it for someone you love.”</p><p>His brain flashed up an image of Vanessa but Wade pushed it away because it hurt. It still hurt.</p><p>“You might think it’s not worth the effort because you don’t deserve to be healthy and clean,” Dr. Stark continued. “But they don’t deserve to see you like this.”</p><p>“They don’t,” Wade snapped. “I left so she doesn’t have to be part of this shit show.”</p><p>“She’s still part of it,” Dr. Stark replied. “It’s just all in her mind. I can guarantee she’s picturing the worst case scenario every day she doesn’t see or hear from you. You always hear that bullshit of <em>do it for yourself, you deserve this</em> but I know, I know sometimes you can’t believe that until you start to get better. Sometimes you have to do it for someone else until you can do it for yourself.”</p><p>“It worked for you?”</p><p>Dr. Stark nodded. “I’ve been there. Some days I’m still there. And if you’re lucky enough that they stick around through all the tough stuff? Then you get to enjoy the good stuff.”</p><p>“That easy, huh?”</p><p>Dr. Stark laughed. “Oh, it’s not easy. It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do. You’ll hate it and you’ll wanna quit because it’s so easy to take that hit instead. And even afterwards, some days are still hard. But I’ve been sober for eight years now. And I’m pretty sure you can do it too.” He stood up and shrugged. “Just food for thought.”</p>
<hr/><p>Tony closed the door behind him and exhaled slowly. He hoped he’d managed to get through to Wilson, but only time would tell. Maybe he’d never find out. That was the hardest part of working the ER; often, you never found out what happened to your patients. Tony’d learned to live with it a long time ago, but there were still moments when he wondered what his life would be like if he worked in a clinic or in a department where he could actually bond with his patients and see them recover.</p><p>“Dr. Stark.”</p><p>Tony looked up. “Dr. Pym,” he greeted. “I heard you were in charge around here these days.”</p><p>“And I heard you got sent home early as a disciplinary measure,” Hank Pym said, strolling down the corridor towards him, hands in his pockets. Tony’s heart skipped a beat but he kept his face impassive. He knew all about Pym and Howard’s dislike of each other. Pym studied him. “We both dislike your father,” he said.</p><p>Tony raised his eyebrows. “Yes. We do.”</p><p>Pym hummed. “I never understood how Howard could disown his only child. There’s nothing Hope could do which would make me disown her. Well, except maybe dating Lang.”</p><p>“Did you just make a joke? Are you funny?” Tony grinned.</p><p>“Don’t let it get around,” Pym smiled. “Who knows? Maybe over time, we’ll find we have something else in common.”</p><p>“Maybe,” Tony nodded.</p><p>“I’ll see you around, Dr Stark,” Pym said.</p><p>“Guess you will,” Tony replied. He turned and began to walk away, when Pym’s voice called out and stopped him short.</p><p>“How old was she?”</p><p>Tony turned to face him again. “Fifteen. She was sold to him at thirteen. He has at least two years on me.”</p><p>“Did she get away?”</p><p>“Officially, I have no idea.”</p><p>“And unofficially?” Pym fixed him with a stare.</p><p>Tony smiled. “Yeah. She got away.”</p><p>“Good.”</p>
<hr/><p>
  <strong>7.00am</strong>
</p><p>“Oof.” Clint dropped onto the locker room bench and sighed. “I need coffee,” he yawned.</p><p>“You drank a whole pot less than an hour ago,” Sharon pointed out. “Besides, shift’s over. Don't you want to, I don’t know, sleep?”</p><p>“Sleep is for the weak,” Clint declared. Another yawn overtook him, stretching his face wide and leaving his vision blurry. “And apparently I’m really fucking weak.”</p><p>Scott chuckled, leaning against his locker and dragging his hands down his face.</p><p>“So what are we gonna do, anyway?” Clint asked.</p><p>“About what?” Sharon asked, heaving herself off of the bench to unlock her locker.</p><p>“The Steve-Stark thing. We have to say something, right? I mean, Steve’s married. We can’t just let this go.”</p><p>“Can’t let what go?” Natasha asked, holding open the door for Banner before following him into the room.</p><p>“Steve and Stark,” Clint replied. “You know they kissed earlier?”</p><p>Banner frowned, looking adorably confused in the way only baby residents could. Clint remembered those days distantly but fondly. “Why is that a problem?” Banner asked.</p><p>“Steve’s married,” Hope replied.</p><p>“His husband’s deployed in Afghanistan,” Scott explained.</p><p>“But-”</p><p>The door opened and Steve wandered in. Clint glared at Banner and made a slashing motion to silence him before smiling brightly at Steve. Steve eyed him warily.</p><p>“What’s going on?”</p><p>“Nothing!”</p><p>Steve glanced between Clint and Scott, who Clint noticed was smiling kinda creepily. Clint mentally scolded Scott to get it together.</p><p>“You’re being weirder than usual,” Steve announced, stepping over Hope’s feet to get to his locker. “But I’m beat, so I don’t give a shit.”</p><p>The door opened again, and Clint wondered if it was Stark and if they were about to have an epic showdown, the kind which would be written into ER and hospital legend, told to generations of interns to come.</p><p>“Steven!”</p><p>“Aw crap,” Steve muttered.</p><p>Worse. It was Hammer.</p><p>“Morning Justin!” Clint grinned, only to be ignored as usual. Hammer refused to speak to him, ever since the time Clint and Scott put shaving foam in his shoe. That was the best April Fools.</p><p>“I’ve been looking for you,” Hammer continued. “I was wondering if I could buy you breakfast this morning.”</p><p>“Thanks but, uh, no thanks,” Steve replied, pulling off his scrubs. “I’ve told you before: I’m married.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“So I’m not getting breakfast with you. I have a husband.”</p><p>Hammer’s face fell from his usual smarmy smile to a scowl. “So when it’s me, you’re married. But it’s not that when you’re flirting with Stark.”</p><p>Clint sucked in a breath. Everyone froze, as though holding their breath to see what was going to happen. Maybe this <em>was</em> going to be one of those showdowns which went into hospital legend. They all watched Steve surreptitiously.</p><p>Steve paused in buttoning his shirt and tilted his head, giving Hammer a look which said that he thought Hammer was crazy. Which, fair enough, Hammer was weird. But in this case, he was only saying what they all thought.</p><p>“What are you talking about?”</p><p>“Come on, man,” Clint began, feeling more awkward than he’d ever been in his life. This was worse than the time he asked Bobbi Morse out in ninth grade. “We’ve all seen you and Stark tonight. You two, you’re… Well, you’re not exactly subtle.”</p><p>God, he needed so much coffee after this.</p><p>“Sorry?” Steve said, glancing between them all. The frown on his face faded to confusion and, oh no, a flash of hurt. “I mean, I know this is Texas but I thought you guys were cool with it?”</p><p>“Cool with what?” Hope echoed.</p><p>“That I’m gay?”</p><p>“That’s not the problem. The problem is, you’re flirting with Stark and you’re <em>married</em>,” Scott blurted out before looking like he would very much appreciate the floor swallowing him whole right now. A sentiment Clint could whole-heartedly agree with.</p><p>“I’m lost,” Steve declared.</p><p>No one wanted to say anything, that much was obvious, so Clint took a deep breath and decided to take one for the team. If they didn’t buy him the biggest stack of waffles after this, then he was never sharing his coffee with them again.</p><p>“We have a problem with you flirting with Stark behind your husband’s back,” he explained. “It’s not fair, Steve. The guy deserves to know.”</p><p>Steve was staring at him like he’d grown an extra head. “You want me to tell my husband that I’m flirting with Tony?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Clint nodded. “The guy deserves to know.”</p><p>Steve’s face shuddered.</p><p>Shit. Had they offended him?</p><p>The door opened and, oh hell no, Stark walked in.</p><p>“Why is everyone staring at me?” he frowned. He eyed Hammer and asked, “Who are you?”</p><p>“Justin Hammer.”</p><p>“Oh, you’re Hammer?”</p><p>“Yes. I think you should know that you have competition.”</p><p>Stark snorted. “I don’t think I do.”</p><p>“You could do better,” Hammer told Steve. Turning back to Stark, he continued, “You know he’s married, right?”</p><p>“Yes?” Stark said slowly. “Why do I feel like yes is the wrong answer? Also why am I being asked this? I mean-”</p><p>“They think I should tell my husband that I'm flirting with you,” Steve interrupted. “That it’s unfair of me to flirt behind his back.”</p><p>Clint watched the emotions flicker across Stark’s face: confusion to understanding to disbelief. There was a flash of amusement, then Stark’s expression turned serious. “Well,” he nodded gravely. “They’re right. I guess. If you feel like you have to tell him, Steve, then go ahead. I won’t stop you.”</p><p>“Okay. I’ll tell him.”</p><p>“That’s good,” Clint nodded.</p><p>“Good luck,” Hope added, which was a good touch. They should let Steve know there were no hard feelings; it was just about doing what was right.</p><p>“Oh no,” Steve shook his head. “I’m calling him right now.”</p><p>“I don’t think we need to be here for this,” Scott began.</p><p>“I think you do,” Steve insisted. “Since you guys think it’s so important.”</p><p>Stark nodded, opening his locker. “Only fair.”</p><p>Clint was frozen in horror. On one hand, he felt like a gauntlet had been thrown down and he never refused a dare, never. But on the other, he didn’t want to be here for this! He saw similar looks of discomfort on Hope, Scott and Sharon’s faces. Hammer, the idiot, looked smug.</p><p>Steve picked up his phone, scrolling through the contacts for what felt like forever.</p><p>Could he fake a heart attack? Clint wondered before dismissing it, because he was in a room full of doctors and nurses; it would never work.</p><p>Steve raised his phone to his ear and Clint couldn’t look away. It was like a trainwreck waiting to happen.</p><p>He jumped when a phone began to ring on his right.</p><p>“Sorry,” Stark apologised, holding up his phone. “I have to take this. Hello?”</p><p>“Hi sweetheart,” Steve said.</p><p>“Hey, honey,” Stark grinned.</p><p>“My team thinks there’s something I should tell you,” Steve began.</p><p>“Really? Okay, what is it?” Stark said.</p><p>Wait.</p><p>Wait.</p><p>Clint gaped at the two of them because no. But it almost sounded like- No. No? No. But it almost sounded like… they were having the same conversation? Steve’s face was unreadable, but Clint had played poker with that asshole and knew he had a stone cold poker face which led to Clint losing two hundred bucks to a lousy pair of twos. But Stark’s eyes were dancing with mirth, even as his face remained impassive.</p><p>They weren’t, right?</p><p>“They want me to tell you that I’ve been flirting with Tony all night,” Steve deadpanned.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>“What?” Stark faux-gasped. “Oh. Oh no. Oh, well. Guess you owe me a blowjob then?”</p><p>“Deal,” Steve replied and hung up. He raised an eyebrow and stared at them all individually. Without looking - mostly because he couldn’t tear his gaze from Steve and Stark - Clint knew they had to all be wearing matching expressions of incredulation.</p><p>“What is happening?” Scott exclaimed.</p><p>“They’re married,” Banner piped up. He shrugged. “I tried to tell you.”</p><p>“How do you know that?” Clint exclaimed.</p><p>Banner shrugged again. “I know how to use Google?”</p><p>“Which, apparently, is more than can be said for the rest of you,” Stark added. His gaze fell on Hammer, and his grin turned shark-like. “So no, I really don’t have competition.”</p><p>Hammer huffed, turning on his heel and storming out of the room.</p>
<hr/><p>Scott squinted as the morning sun hit his eyes when they stepped out of the ER. Ahead of them, Steve and Tony walked hand in hand, bickering loudly as they crossed the parking lot. As Scott watched, Tony bumped his hip against Steve, even as their voices’ rose, the argument continuing but with an undertone of teasing.</p><p>“I need so many waffles,” Clint declared.</p><p>“Agreed,” Hope nodded. “I can’t believe we didn’t see this.”</p><p>“Same,” Scott nodded. “What?” he asked when Hope and Clint turned to him with matching expressions of disbelief. “Hey, I notice stuff! Sometimes.”</p><p>“I had green hair for three days last year before you noticed,” Clint pointed out.</p><p>“I was having an off day,” Scott pouted.</p><p>“Apparently we all had an off day tonight,” Hope sighed, staring across the parking lot, where Stark was climbing onto a motorbike and offering Steve a second helmet. Steve huffed. Then he took the helmet but leaned down and kissed Stark thoroughly.</p><p>“Alright, so, L&amp;L?” Clint asked, clapping his hands together. “Waffles, coffee, brain bleach?”</p><p>“Sounds like a plan,” Hope nodded. “Hey, Sharon? We’re going to L&amp;L’s, you coming?”</p><p>“Sorry,” Sharon shook her head then reached over to take Natasha’s hand. Scott blinked. “I have to take my girlfriend for pancakes,” Sharon continued, grinning at Natasha.</p><p>Natasha smiled back at her lovingly. What was going on? Was there something in the water? Scott wondered. He’d been awkwardly third-wheeling way too many couples tonight already.</p><p>“Sounds great,” Natasha murmured, brushing her lips against Sharon’s. “See you guys tonight.”</p><p>“What the fuck?” Clint exclaimed. “Seriously? Is there anyone else hooking up around here that I don’t know about?”</p><p>Scott very pointedly did not look at Hope. Instead, he cleared his throat and said, “So, L&amp;L’s?”</p><p>“L&amp;L’s,” Hope agreed, probably too quickly, but Clint was too busy muttering under his breath to notice.</p><p>They headed across the parking lot to the sidewalk, heading down the block to their favourite diner. As Scott held the door open for Hope and Clint, he heard the roar of an engine. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a motorcycle with two riders shooting off into the sunrise.</p><p>Steve and Stark; who would’ve guessed?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one was a bit of a challenge to myself, writing in so many different POVs but I had a lot of fun writing this. Thank you so much to my wonderful betas <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_m_reading/pseuds/I_m_reading">i_m_reading</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksnack/pseuds/starksnack">starksnack</a> whose amazing comments kept me motivated and helped make this story the best it could be. Thanks to loverstar for picking this fic, and I hope it lives up to your expectations.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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